1 Once more, my soul, the rising day Salutes thy waking eyes. Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay To him that rolls the skies.
2 Night unto night his name repeats, The day renews the sound, Wide as the heaven on which he sits To turn the seasons round.
3 'Tis he supports my mortal frame, My tongue shall speak his praise; My sins would rouse his wrath to flame, And yet his wrath delays.
4 On a poor worm thy power might tread, And I could ne'er withstand; Thy justice might have crush'd me dead, But mercy held thine hand.
5 A thousand wretched souls are fled Since the last setting sun, And yet thou length'nest out my thread, And yet my moments run.
6 Dear God, let all my hours be thine Whilst I enjoy the light, Then shall my sun in smiles decline, And bring a pleasing night.